


Intentionally

by Sophitia



Series: Of Saints and Stags [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Feelings Realization, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Friends to Lovers, Loss of Trust, Mentioned Golden Deer Students (Fire Emblem), Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Secrets, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Trust Issues, so many spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-11-23 04:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20885807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophitia/pseuds/Sophitia
Summary: It was at the moment of her death that Byleth finally understood irony.---Slow-burning chronological snippets of Byleth and Seteth attempting to come to terms with their secrets.





	1. Master of Violence

It was at the moment of her death that Byleth finally understood irony.  
  
After all, she was falling to her death a mere two months after she received the power of the goddess Sothis. It was this power that made her whole again, gave her back her humanity, and unlocked the prison where her emotions had been held.  
  
It was irony and nothing else, then, that she now faced a death with plenty of time for fear and panic and grief to grip her no-longer-numb heart.  
  
As she sank through the air, the cliff side rushing passed her, she had time for one last thought. One last thought of the man that had helped her feel something more than just _ alive _.  
  
_Seteth… forgive me..._  
  
\---  
\---  
  
When Byleth had arrived at Garreg Mach Monastery almost a year earlier, she was sure Seteth, the archbishop’s advisor, hated her.  
  
She knew he thought her unqualified, ill-equipped, and unfit to teach at Garreg Mach's Officer Academy. He said _ those _ things out loud. While she was in the room.  
  
What he didn't say, but she still felt, was that her demeanor itself was unsettling and off-putting. That her silence and blank stare sent wary chills down his spine. She could feel it in his assessing stares, in the way he questioned all of her decisions, in the way he stood just a_ little _ too far from her.  
  
At first, Byleth was content with that. She was, after all, just a mercenary who had trouble showing any kind of emotion and had absolutely no education experience of her own. She had no business teaching anyone, let alone nobles and princes. Seteth’s feelings, while disappointing, were certainly understandable.   
  
Like most things, though, it got better with time. Their curriculum meetings started to end _ without _threats of termination. Mission debriefs included faint praise for her and her Golden Deer students. Once, Seteth even shook her hand after a particularly well-fought sparring match between Golden Deer Hilda and Black Eagle Caspar.   
  
(The day after that particular match, Caspar begged to be transferred to Byleth's class, and watching Seteth fill out that paperwork was the first time she could remember feeling… satisfied? No,_ smug _.)  
  
It was starting to seem that Byleth was, slowly, carving out some respect at the monastery - and creating herself a home.  
  
\---  
  
Then Flayn went missing.  
  
And Seteth fell apart.   
  
Byleth could see the cracks in their story even then. Seteth was far too frantic for just an overprotective elder brother. He took on too much responsibility for Flayn’s safety for simply a sibling. Too much of _ him _ was gone along with her.  
  
He was about to lash out like a caged animal - so close to hurting someone. Byleth may not have known much about emotions, but she was a _ master _ of violence.  
  
So it was before dawn on a quiet day when Seteth burst into the training grounds.   
  
"Professor, I will not abide this!" His voice was a barely constrained roar. "I am not one of your students, and you cannot _ demand _ my attention! Not while my sister is still missing!"  
  
Byleth made no indication she heard Seteth's storm roll in. She began removing her coat as he stalked around the ring.  
  
"And using _ Manuela _ to make up some asinine lie for you is just insulting!"  
  
She tossed her coat to the side and rolled up her shirtsleeves.  
  
Seteth raked his hand through his emerald hair - unkempt, like the rest of him - and sighed, pulling together what composure he could.  
  
"Professor, I refuse to _ fight _ you…"  
  
"You've been fighting me since I got here, Seteth," she said coolly.   
  
She tossed him a wooden training axe and continued in her trademark matter-of-fact way. "I apologize for the deception, Seteth, but you're going to maim the next person who brings no word of Flayn."  
  
She shifted her weight and held up her training sword. "You have to let that rage out somewhere, and you know I can take it."  
  
For a tense moment, he stared her down and doubt began to creep into Byleth's battle-ready stance. She had been sure this would work…  
  
Then Seteth charged at her, axe held high, and she side-stepped him easily. They continued their dance as the sun rose and the day’s heat began to bear down on them. They hadn't yet worked together on the battlefield, but Byleth was already figuring out in her head how Seteth and his wyvern would fit into her battle strategy. A nice balance to Claude's hit-and-run sniper tactics, maybe… or a double unit with Hilda…  
  
Seteth was wild and unfocused, an animal with a weapon. Byleth was able to avoid most of his strikes, but the ones that hit, hit _ hard _. Like in a real battle, though, she hardly flinched.  
  
Far past the point they were both covered in sweat, the spar ended without words. As they both stored their training weapons, Seteth placed a hand gently on her shoulder and bowed his head slightly.  
  
"Thank you, Professor." His words were thick.  
  
She nodded, and the heat of his hand was still on her shoulder. Slowly, they moved apart, and made their separate ways through the day.  
  
Later, in the infirmary, she could still feel his hand pressed there as Manuela was tending to her bruises and a dislocated shoulder and very specifically_ not _ asking her where the injuries had come from.  
  
\---  
  
After she and the Golden Deer found Flayn, and pushed the Death Knight back to whatever eerie shadow he called his den, the ice between Byleth and Seteth was broken forever.  
  
He was - she could scarcely believe it - a friend. An _ actual _ friend.  
  
Of course she and Claude, the Golden Deer's house leader, had become close. Saving each other's lives several times over would do that. But Byleth could tell that Claude still did not fully trust her, and she knew behind all his easy smiles there was a shrewd, singular mind. He was a harvester of secrets, and she was a mystery, so their time together always floated on an undercurrent of suspicion.  
  
Seteth had his own secrets, of that Byleth had no doubt. His entire past was paved with obscurities and non-answers and yet… Byleth found herself entirely unconcerned. He, of course, also tried to pry open the lockbox that was her past. She answered his questions as honestly as she could - no, she didn't know how old she was; no, she didn't know her mother's name.  
  
The difference was that he seemed to… just accept that. He asked questions, she answered, and they moved on.  
  
Her friendship with Seteth didn't require any careful maneuvering or precisely placed words. When taking tea together, he called it "delectable" instead of wondering aloud if the taste was strong enough to mask a poison. When she went to him for teaching advice, he actually gave it instead of waxing poetically on the various riddles surrounding them. When he came upon her reading in the library, he simply asked if she was enjoying the book instead of what had pushed her to choose _ that _particular one.  
  
Byleth began to… _ feel _… around Seteth. Sensations and feelings she could barely name would pulse through her quietly. She felt comfort while grading papers with him in the silence of his office. She felt gratified when she could, through sheer luck, make him laugh. And she felt something warm that enveloped her completely when she even thought of him at all.  
  
And so, later, when the ground fell apart beneath her and she desperately needed something solid to lean on, it was _ Seteth's _ shoulder she sought out.  
  
\---  
\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I just love both of these dorks.
> 
> Also, when trying to come up with a title for this my friend suggested song lyrics - so for a hot second the title to this was "i took a dna test and it turns out i'm 100% in love (and also the secret reincarnation of a divine dragon IT'S CHILL)"
> 
> Also also, this is the first thing I've written in a long time so comments of any kind are welcome


	2. Cherished Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the end of the Guardian Moon of that year, Byleth's father was murdered.

At the end of the Guardian Moon of that year, Byleth's father was murdered.

She stood and watched in shock as the imposter Monica plunged her dagger into Jeralt’s back. And then, after turning back the hands of time, Byleth watched in horror as she failed to prevent it from happening again. She had saved countless lives before with Sothis' gift, and this time it gave her _ nothing _ but the privilege of watching her father die _ twice _.

What had Sothis called it? _ Fate? _

So it was that for the first time in her strange, quiet life, Byleth cried, desperately clinging to her father. The Blade Breaker. The only family she had ever known. And Jeralt had smiled, relieved to see the tears he had been searching for since her birth. 

“To think that the first time I saw you cry, your tears would be for me.”

Her tears continued to fall, long after her father's body went still and silent. They were washed away quickly, too quickly, by the rain drowning the battlefield. Eventually Claude and Flayn gathered her up and wordlessly guided her back to the monastery. Raphael followed solemnly, gingerly cradling the captain.

\---

She hadn't been able to summon her tears since that day.

At the funeral, Byleth was stone silent. But in the days following she could feel the grief filling her up, welling up inside her like a vicious boil. She had never felt anything so _ black _ before. She wished desperately for a way to lance it, to relieve the pressure, but the tears never came.

She dealt with it the only way she knew how - by completely refusing to acknowledge it and plowing through each endless, merciless day.

Something had changed, though. A piece inside Byleth had cracked, just a little, and she started to realize that she was wearing her grief. People could see it as plain as day when they looked at her - could see the black swell just behind her eyes - and it unnerved her.

Her students and friends tried to help, but Byleth refused entirely to talk about her father. She accepted others' condolences, and let them share their grief with her, but she never opened up to them in return. 

The anguish dragged behind her, constantly begging for her attention. For all of her prowess in inflicting pain, she had no idea how to manage it. 

Byleth could swear she was leaving behind pieces of her non-existent heart everywhere she went. She could feel herself balanced at the top of a tall precipice - one step in the wrong direction and she’d fall forever into despair.

_ How does anyone survive this? _

\---

A few weeks after her father’s death, Byleth found herself knocking on Seteth’s office door, clutching paperwork in her hand. She simultaneously wished he would answer, and hoped he did not. Something desperate and pathetic had pushed her there, and the fact that she couldn’t name it and couldn’t control it frightened her.

She was on the verge of turning on her heel and leaving when Seteth opened the door and gave her a soft smile. His brows were creased with something like…

_ Goddess, anything but pity. _

"Professor, come in. I just made a pot of tea." She could smell the four-spice blend - his favorite, and hers. She simply nodded and shuffled past him, taking a seat.

Seteth moved the tea tray from his desk to the table, and sat opposite her. He poured tea, handed her a cup, and settled back to sip his own. 

Byleth realized as she felt the warmth of her cup bleed into her palms that he hadn’t commented on her habit of silence in months.

"Seteth, I…" A lump rose in her throat, like the despair itself was trying to claw its way out. She looked down at the fragrant tea and started again. "I came to ask a question."

"Of course, Professor. Whatever I can answer for you, I shall." 

She swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the uncomfortable tightness. "I… it's… hm." She frowned in frustration. Everything required such effort now, even stringing together simple sentences.

_ Stay focused _.

"It's my father's headstone."

"I see..." His voice was kind and understanding. He watched her carefully, giving her the space to finish.

In return, she handed him the paperwork she had been told to fill out by the monastery groundskeeper. She still couldn’t meet his eyes. "I finished everything else. I just… the epitaph." Her voice got quieter and quieter as she spoke, before breaking on the last word. _ Epitaph _. 

Seteth’s eyes slid down to the offending section of paperwork.

_ Epitaph _   
_ Jeralt Eisner_   
_ ??? - 1180_   
_ <strike>Beloved Father and Hus</strike>_   
_ <strike>fuck</strike>_   
_ <strike>Blade Breaker </strike>_   
_ <strike>Will be missed </strike>_

He looked back at Byleth, pondering the depths of her teacup. Her grief was heavy, slumping her shoulders and draining what little energy she had. She had never been so exhausted.

She spoke so softly she almost couldn't hear herself. It was a vulnerable sound, hardly a whisper. "Do you think… the groundskeeper would let me just leave it blank?"

She closed her eyes against the tears she knew weren't really there, but opened them again at the sound of Seteth setting down his teacup gently and standing. He took the paperwork to his desk and grabbed a quill, quickly signing the bottom line labeled "Church Representative" and crossing out the "Groundskeeper" line.

"I do not think he has much choice in the matter now," he said, his firm tone leaving little room for debate and reminding Byleth of the power he actually held at the monastery. 

She let go a stuttering but relieved breath. Still, her eyes were cast downward.

Seteth made his way to the window and watched the sky for a few moments. His voice was soft and warm with nostalgia when he next spoke, still gazing at the white clouds. "Jeralt was very fond of fishing. I wonder… if he passed that fondness onto his daughter?" 

The side of her mouth twitched upward at the happy thought - the first ghost of a smile she'd had in weeks. "Fishing with him is one of my most cherished memories."

Seteth turned. "Professor, I…” he cleared his throat. “I was just thinking that I haven't fished in quite some time."

Byleth looked up at him, curious.

"Would you like to join me down at the pond?"

\---

They had been sitting at the end of the dock, without a word said or a fish caught between them, for over half an hour. 

Byleth was thinking of earlier that day - she had spent the morning with Alois packing up her father's belongings. She kept two things for herself: her mother's ring, currently shoved deep out of sight in her desk, and Jeralt's diary, exhibit one in Claude's new research project.

The rest she left with Alois. Most of it meant nothing to her.

"My father had a middle name." The words rushed out of her mouth and she looked up at the gentle afternoon sky, baffled. What possessed her to say that out loud?

Seteth glanced over at her, one eyebrow raised in a gentle look of confusion.

She sighed bitterly. "I don't know it, of course. But one of his ledgers was monogrammed - JRE."

Byleth cast her line out again, baitless. Seteth's gaze followed hers out across the pond.

"Your father kept a lot of secrets from you." His voice was quiet. Byleth turned toward him. "I imagine it was an attempt to protect his child."

Her bitter sigh turned into an acidic chuckle. "I haven't been a child for a long time. I finally found out my real birthday from his _ journal _." Her words built upon each other, each one growing louder and more indignant.

Seteth stared at her agape. Byleth sighed again, guilty. She knew such outbursts from her were unprecedented. "I'm just so tired of feeling so... so…"

"Angry?"

Her blue eyes blinked up to his green ones in surprise. "Angry?" she parroted.

She turned that puzzle piece of a word around in her mind and was taken aback by how well it fit. 

"Yes. Angry. I am _ angry _ at him." She looked down at her hands, squeezing them into fists and relaxing them in turn. "He did protect me. But he built my whole life on _ lies _ . And now he's _ gone _ and I can't forgive him for not telling me _ why _ he did it."

Seteth turned back toward their forgotten lines. "Fathers are not known for their… objectivity... when it comes to protecting their children." 

Byleth hummed in thought. It was oddly self-aware, coming from him - if her latest theory about Flayn was indeed correct.

Seteth glanced at her sideways, but otherwise didn’t react. “Jeralt tried his best to do what he believed to be the best course of action. Whether or not it was... none of us can say. He was a complicated man. You are permitted to have complicated feelings about him.”

“I didn’t use to have any feelings, complicated or not. All of this… it _ hurts _ .” And yet, confessing that fact to Seteth _ didn't _ hurt. It didn't hurt at all.

“It is a steep price we pay,” he acknowledged. “I know it is little comfort, but Jeralt died knowing you had found your purpose, and he was _ proud _ of what you have become.”

“A mess?” she quipped without thinking. Immediately, Byleth closed her eyes in embarrassment and shook her head. Claude was rubbing off on her more than she realized.

To her surprise, Seteth let go a quick bark of laughter before covering it up with a cough and clearing his throat. “Ah… no. A gifted instructor. A fierce warrior. A true friend...”

Byleth turned to find him smiling at her. Warmth spread through her, shining a mote of light on her darkness.

Then something in his eyes shifted, and before Byleth could question it he returned his gaze to their unproductive fishing poles.

“...and an atrocious fisher,” he finished, trying unsuccessfully to hide a self-satisfied smirk.

Byleth, on the other hand, didn’t even bother to cover up her laughter.

\--

A few days later, Byleth made her next visit to the grave of her parents. When she saw the words engraved there - Seteth’s words, no doubt - she felt something inside her clench painfully and then release, like a muscle ache being kneaded away.

_Jeralt Eisner_   
_ ??? - 1180  
Resting in the warm embrace of cherished memories._

\---

The battle in the Sealed Forest had started like so many others. The Golden Deer were working together seamlessly. New transfers Felix and Sylvain were filling holes in Byleth’s strategy with their sword and cavalry skills. Flayn was an incredibly talented healer, and made Byleth even more confident in their ability to pull through with few serious injuries.

Staying true to his promise to help her find revenge, Claude was in the forward position with Byleth, a hundred paces behind her. They broke through the enemy front lines to finally catch a glimpse of Jeralt’s murderer. 

Byleth charged. Revenge was within her reach. Monica - no, Kronya - was within her reach. And then…

...and then Solon was there and rank purple mist starting rising and Kronya was writhing in anguish on the ground begging for _ Byleth’s _ help and Byleth tried to turn and run but something clutched at her and held her there and then there was a rushing, stampeding roar in her ears and through her body and the quiet center of her chest and then...

...darkness.

\---  
\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday so I got us all a present and it's called angst. :)
> 
> Comments always welcome.


	3. Hellfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was just so damn _stubborn_ and _loyal_ and today Byleth hated him for it.

_ Your will and mine are now as one. Both sides of time are revealed to you, and you alone. You know I am the beginning. What shall you do?_  
  
Hands outstretched toward one another, Byleth looked into Sothis’ eyes, and smiled. Her constant companion. Her friend. Her savior.  
  
The pins and needles started at her fingertips and the tip of her nose, and skipped up her arm, wandering through her body. The surrounding darkness was pushed back by the golden glow.   
  
Then the sparking feeling quieted suddenly - and a rushing blaze that started in the center of her chest burst forth.  
  
Byleth felt… warm. Lighter. Unafraid. She didn’t feel what she expected, which was power crackling and coursing under her skin. Instead she was calm, content… and she knew exactly how to escape this banishment.  
  
\---  
  
When Byleth leapt out of the impossible tear in time, everything rushed back like she had been gone for a lifetime. The sounds - of the battle cries of Claude and the others, of her own labored breathing, of the clink of her armor as she landed - echoed in her ears as she reoriented herself to reality.  
  
She had always been fearless... no, that wasn’t right. She felt the difference now, between choice and absence. And now she charged at Solon with conviction and purpose.   
  
Because Solon was wrong - she was not Sothis. She was not the Fell Star. _ She _ was Byleth, the Ashen Demon, and she had hellfire at her command.  
  
And she was going to collect the revenge Solon stole from her.  
  
\---  
  
Later, Claude recounted the story for her, of how she disappeared and then fell from the sky. Byleth was shocked to hear it was mere moments that she was gone. The black echo of timelessness had felt unforgiving, and she had been convinced that it had been hours, if not days.  
  
_Both sides of time are revealed to you..._  
  
Byleth looked at Claude now, grateful that in just a few months he had evolved into a trusted ally. A partner, in many ways. The undercurrent was still there - he was keeping many secrets from her, she knew - but it was shrinking day by day.  
  
So without a thought Byleth told Claude the truth about Sothis' gift.  
  
And then promptly fainted in front of him.  
  
\---  
  
After waking up in the infirmary with Rhea singing to her, Byleth spent just a few more hours letting Manuela have her turn fretting. Claude eventually came to escort (_rescue _) her to her own quarters.   
  
Claude was musing on passages from her father's journal when Byleth quite literally ran into Seteth in the hall.   
  
"Professor, I was just on my way to see you. You should be... resting…" his worried voice trailed off as he untangled himself from her and seemed to finally take in her appearance. Even from the brief glances she had stolen in Manuela's mirrors she knew how startlingly different she looked. Bright green hair, with eyes to match.  
  
_Definitely can’t blend into a crowd, now._  
  
"Professor… you are..." Seteth was speechless. Byleth had never witnessed the phenomenon before, and she wanted to bottle the moment up so she could savor it.   
  
Something unknown and dangerous bloomed in her chest, and she couldn't help but diffuse it by poking a little fun of him. "I was going for subtle but I think I missed the mark," she whispered conspiratorially.  
  
Claude snickered behind her. Seteth continued staring, and something in his eyes grew… concerned, if Byleth had to guess.  
  
"Seteth…" she cocked her head at him, puzzled. "I really am feeling just fine. Rhea’s expecting me to meet with you both in the morning for a debrief. And I am on my way to my own quarters to rest. I promise."  
  
She gave him a small smile, which he returned, but his eyes made no change. After a few moments, she nodded at Claude and they continued on their way.  
  
Byleth knew for certain now that the cracks she had been feeling inside her had been shattered by Sothis’ power. Everything felt raw and intense. She knew these were all the same feelings she had before, but now they were all sharp, electric heat.   
  
And nothing burned quite like Seteth's eyes following her down the hall.  
  
\---  
  
A few weeks after the battle with Solon and Kronya, Byleth and the Golden Deer were accompanying Seteth and Flayn on a mysterious mission. It seemed personal, with Flayn’s impassioned plea for help and Seteth’s reluctant agreement, but Byleth hadn’t had the time or the heart to pry.  
  
The journey out to the Rhodos Coast was cloudless and beautiful and...  
  
"This is awkward as hell, Teach. What is going on?"   
  
Byleth stared straight ahead. "As ever, Mr. von Riegan, your skills at reading the battlefield are riveting to behold," she deadpanned. Slipping back into her blank stare and uninterested tone of voice was frighteningly easy, and she hoped it would put Claude off enough to not have to discuss the situation with him.  
  
Because the thing of it was… he was right. Things _ were _ awkward where Seteth was concerned. They had been for two weeks, ever since Byleth had come back changed.  
  
For the several hours they had been riding out to the coast from Garreg Mach, Seteth had been in the lead, riding far ahead of everyone. He hadn’t said a word. Even Flayn wasn’t with him - glancing back, Byleth saw her chatting animatedly with Lysithea.  
  
“I’m just saying, Teach, maybe you could go talk with your buddy and figure out a game plan for… whatever it is we’re doing?”  
  
Byleth shot him an irritated glance and Claude held up his hands in surrender. “It’s because I said buddy, isn’t it?”  
  
Ignoring him, Byleth rode forward and fell in alongside Seteth. The air between them was thick, but at least it was sunny and there was a breeze.  
  
She rode next to him in silence for several minutes before he finally sighed and shook his head. “I must apologize, Professor. I have not been very fair to you, have I?”  
  
“Seteth, I don’t quite…”   
  
“I am sorry that I ever doubted you. It is obvious to me now that you are… extraordinary.” His matter-of-fact tone told Byleth that there was something else to this conversation besides belated compliments.  
  
“...really?” Her eyes narrowed just a bit and she pursed her lips.   
  
“Do you doubt your own power, even now?” Seteth finally turned his eyes toward her. “I suppose that’s only natural…”  
  
“I’m sorry, you misunderstand. I doubt _ you _ , right now.” Byleth blinked and then froze. Apparently what had previously been described as her _ earnest _ nature was now just plain _ brash_. “I just mean that… you say that I'm extraordinary, but you haven’t spoken to me in two weeks, Seteth. Are we… are you… okay?”  
  
“I… truly am sorry, Professor. There are many concerns weighing on my mind right now, with this mission and with... “ Byleth could see in his eyes how that sentence was meant to end. _ And with you._  
  
She stayed silent, and gave him the room to finish. She had learned that from him and had, at least, the restraint for that much.  
  
With Byleth paying the price of a few more awkward minutes, he did, finally, get at the heart of it.   
  
“I know you cannot carry on much longer knowing next to nothing about yourself. But I wonder… are you ready to know the truth?” His shoulders were rigid with fear. Byleth was supremely confused.  
  
“Yes, I am.”  
  
“Even if it changes everything, and you wish you hadn’t learned the truth? You will never be able to return to ignorance.”  
  
“Seteth.” Her voice was hard. “Of course I am ready for the truth. Do you… know something?”  
  
This time, when he met her eyes, she could see him searching their depths. “Nothing presently, no. But I will do all that is within my power to help you someday reach the truth.”  
  
Goddess help her, she believed him. She gave him a small smile of thanks and she felt the tension loosen, just a little. Just enough.  
  
She gave him a few more moments of companionable silence before she needed to probe him again. “There actually is something…”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“The students - well, mostly just Claude - are getting a little restless as to what we should be expecting at the coast.”  
  
“Ah, of course, of course. There is a beach with a monument to Saint Cichol the Western Church is attempting to overtake…”  
  
\---  
  
If Byleth ranked the ten most shocking moments of her life, Seteth finally admitting that Flayn was his daughter wouldn’t have even made the list.  
  
Still, the knowledge that he truly trusted her - with even just one of his secrets - filled Byleth with a happy glow.   
  
\---  
  
After the disaster in the Holy Tomb, Byleth’s happy glow had become but an ember.  
  
Even before Edelgard’s attack, Byleth sensed that Rhea was profoundly disappointed in the absence of a - what had she kept calling it? - _ revelation from the goddess_. There was a deep sadness in Rhea’s eyes that night in the tomb that Byleth didn’t quite know how to read.   
  
Since she had woken up to Rhea’s lullaby all those weeks ago, Byleth had gotten the feeling that Rhea wasn’t really seeing her at all. And now Rhea was looking straight through Byleth with sorrow in her eyes.  
  
Byleth didn’t know how to tell Rhea the truth - there would be no revelation from the goddess. Sothis was _ gone _ and all that was left in her place was a green-formerly-blue-haired mercenary that could turn back time a little. The impudent goddess had sacrificed herself for a demon.  
  
But all of that quickly became secondary to the war the Adrestian Empire was bringing upon them. The emperor and her troops would soon come for them all.  
  
Seteth had made himself scarce since the Holy Tomb. If Byleth had to guess, he was purposely avoiding her, and that knowledge hurt in a constant, dull aching sort of way.  
  
When she was finally fed up and marched her way toward his office, Byleth told herself she was seeking out Seteth to strategize, to get assignments for her and her students for the upcoming defense.  
  
With each step, though, she slowly became more honest with herself.  
  
She was seeking him out for reassurance -_ step step _ \- for warmth - _ step step _ \- for comfort.  
  
She finally opened his door, her chest fluttering nervously - _ nervously? _ \- but before she could say anything, he spoke.   
  
"I am sorry, but I have a lot on my mind. I would prefer to be alone right now." He didn’t bother to turn toward her or glance her way.  
  
Byleth spun on her heel, and it only took one, two, three steps for each of her fluttering nerves to be fried with exasperation.   
  
She told herself that later that night, at dinner, she would speak to him again. Later, she would get him to open up to her or to at least try to distract him. Later, they would iron out whatever had wrinkled between them. Later, she would tell him _ her _truth, the full truth of her feelings. Later, everything would be alright.  
  
She lied to herself that there would be plenty of _ laters _ for them to share.  
  
\---  
  
Garreg Mach was on fire. It was about to bow down to the Flame Emperor. Edelgard had always been a quick study regardless of the source material, and she proved that once again by deploying the very same tactics Claude had once thrown out for being _ too _devious.  
  
Byleth and Seteth stood just outside the gates of the monastery, bearing horrific witness to the Imperial troops flooding the valley. The Immaculate One - Rhea - was on her way towards a desperate last stand.  
  
“I cannot abandon Rhea!”  
  
Time had just stitched itself back together. It was the third time Byleth had heard this roar from Seteth.   
  
They were both bloodspattered and spent, but next he would charge after Rhea, leap onto his wyvern, and sweep down the battlefield. He’d get two good hits on the demonic beasts and then… he’d fall, with no chance of escape as the beasts ripped him apart. Even if she followed him, she wouldn’t be able to get to him in time. And then Byleth would scream and force time apart at the seams to save him.  
  
When he turned toward that fate yet again she seized his wrist with both of her hands. How could she make him understand? She couldn’t, _wouldn't,_ watch him fall again.   
  
He tried to pull away from her, and she gripped him as hard as she could. “Professor, I must…”  
  
Byleth was frantic. She couldn't fail again - she wouldn't survive it. Not Seteth.   
  
If she couldn't stop him and she couldn’t join him, then, well… she'd take his place.   
  
“No! You can’t! You can't. We’ll... divide forces. _I _will go to Rhea. _You_ need to get the students _and Flayn_ out of here.” Invoking his daughter’s safety felt a little underhanded, but necessary. He was just so damn _stubborn_ and _loyal_ and today Byleth hated him for it.  
  
She reached up to frame his face with her hands and forced him to look at her, not Rhea.  
  
“Seteth. We are losing the monastery today. You must get the students out of here." Byleth looked into his eyes, trying to commit their exact shade of green to memory. Goddess, what could she even say to apologize for what was about to happen? She only had a few more seconds… "Please go. You must go!"  
  
Releasing him, she shoved him as hard as she could toward the gate. He took one, two, three heavy steps in the right direction before he finally broke her gaze and turned - away from his death, and away from witnessing hers.  
  
\---  
  
Byleth did, for one foolish moment, think there was a chance that she and Rhea were going to get out of this mess alive.  
  
Then Thales showed his face once more, and she felt the ground give way beneath her as she tried to block his magic.  
  
Desperately, she grabbed for the edge of infinity, to wind back, to get herself back on solid ground. Her fingertips prickled with power and all she had to do was ground herself for one pulse, just one heartbeat of time. But she was too frantic, too overcome, too full of fear…  
  
As she sank through the air, the cliffside rushing passed her, she had time for one last thought. One last thought of the man that had helped her feel something more than just _alive_.  
  
_Seteth… forgive me…_  
  
\---  
\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm playing through my 3rd route and I still can't remember the order in which things happen. So ~hand wave~ this is my new headcanon and I'm sticking with it, right or wrong.
> 
> Comments always welcome!


	4. Just Yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alois howled and Catherine swore… and Seteth let out a small, “Can it be?”

Five years.  
  
Five _fucking_ years.  
  
It felt like just yesterday - it had to have been _just _yesterday - that she and Seteth and Rhea and her students had been fighting to defend the monastery. Just one day ago she had seen them all - strong, present, _alive_.  
  
At first Byleth didn’t - couldn’t - believe the villager that it was 1185, the year of the Millennium Festival. But as she made her way up to the monastery, and saw the time-worn scars of battle, she knew it to be real. The monastery had truly been abandoned, and she couldn’t help but feel responsible.   
  
If only she’d been there, if only she could have used her power to push back Edelgard, if only, if only, if only…  
  
What of the others? Had anyone escaped, had they survived? What became of Claude, her students, the Knights, Rhea…  
  
_Seteth?   
  
_She couldn’t breath. Her knees buckled and she sank to the ground horrified, covering her lips with shaking hands. Had they lost everything? Had _she_ lost everything?  
  
Why bother even waking at all?  
  
Eventually Byleth gathered her courage and stalked through the grounds aimlessly, a ghost mourning the past. The predawn mist was worming its way under her skin, numbing her fingertips.   
  
Even in her solitary childhood, Jeralt had always protected her from loneliness - and now she was drowning in it.  
  
In the ruins Byleth could clearly see the focus of Edelgard’s righteous fury. Administrative buildings like the dorms and greenhouse were practically untouched but the cathedral - with its beautiful frescoes and echoing silence - had been half-demolished.  
  
_Subtle, Edie.  
  
_Eventually she made her way to the Goddess Tower. As memories tugged at the corner of her mind, she thought she could see… a shadow?  
  
Byleth told herself it was a bandit, a looter, an animal, but as she quietly made her way up the spiral staircase to the top of the tower, she made no move to ready her sword. An illogical hope was staying her hand.  
  
And then, there at the top... she saw a man wearing Leicester gold, silhouetted in the dawning light.   
  
A man she instantly recognized.  
  
Claude von Riegan.   
  
He heard her approaching and turned his head lazily toward the stairwell. When his eyes met hers and sparked in recognition, her chest seized and all she could do to keep from crying out was covering her mouth with her cold hands.  
  
He was taller and broader. His jawline was more defined, his hair much more intentional. He was Duke von Riegan now, if his dress was anything to go by. And yet, his eyes shone with the same mischief, and his smile was bright and real. After a shocked gasp, he laughed.  
  
"You overslept, Teach! Pretty rude to keep a fella waiting like that, wouldn’t you say?"  
  
Oh, his voice was richer, too. Byleth almost cried from it. Here he was, her student and friend, five years older and wiser. He looked every bit like a leader - while she was exactly the same.  
  
She looked at him and saw a world that had passed her by. How could she have any value to him - one of the most powerful men in Fódlan - outside of nostalgia?   
  
"Goddess, Claude, you're all grown up," she finally said, her voice breaking so badly she could barely whisper.  
  
He gave her a blinding smile, and his answering voice, no longer a teasing lilt, was thick with emotion. "I’ve missed you, my friend. Even though it seemed too crazy to wish for, I hoped you’d be here, you know?"   
  
She did know. She ran the last few steps towards him, and threw her arms around him. "I'm so sorry I left. I didn't want to."  
  
"I know you didn't, Teach." He squeezed her tightly and then pulled back, putting both of his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face the now-bright morning.  
  
“Can you feel it? A new dawn is finally here. Not just for us, though. No... for all of Fódlan.”  
  
_He sounds like a leader, too.  
  
_\---  
  
A bonfire was lit, and Byleth was watching the warm firelight dance on the faces of her Golden Deer.  
  
_Her _students, here. Safe.  
  
She and Claude had gone down to the village to dispatch the local bandit gang and begin the long journey of restoring the monastery. Fighting side by side with him through the narrow streets had given her a small piece of belonging. A small piece of home.   
  
The two of them had been cornered in their first real challenge, when she started hearing voices.  
  
“Could that be the professor’s ghost?” Marianne. “The barbarity is even worse than the rumors.” Lorenz. Raphael. Leonie. Lysithea. Ignatz. Hilda.  
  
They had all arrived. They were all _alive_.  
  
Dispatching the bandits after that was elementary. They had each grown stronger, more confident in their abilities, and Byleth knew at this point they could teach her just as much as she taught them.  
  
They gathered back at the wrecked cathedral and a bonfire was lit.  
  
The bandits were gone. Someone found ale. And now - they were celebrating.  
  
Byleth was sitting on the floor with Marianne, sipping lukewarm and almost-certainly-sour ale, and giggling at an argument Hilda was having with Lorenz about “proper” battle attire.   
  
She heard the cathedral doors open and thought nothing of it. Claude walked off - _Leader Man _things to do, she assumed. Then she heard booming baritone laughter...  
  
“We leave you alone for a few short years and you break into the ale cellar?”  
  
_Alois?  
  
_Byleth’s breath stopped. Everyone else laughed and cheered and made their way towards the door, but Byleth was frozen in place.  
  
The pews were in her way. She stood, slowly. She tried to stop herself from hoping, but…  
  
Byleth gazed out at the gathering crowd. No one had noticed her yet. Claude was talking to someone and had his back towards her, blocking her view.   
  
A flash of forest green hair. A confident voice, with precise words.   
  
She let out a stuttering breath - goddess, could she be that lucky in a single day?  
  
“...had not been expecting you here. When we spoke in Derdriu I was under the impression the Alliance was in no position to assist with the search.”  
  
She could barely hear any of it. The gusting of her own shaking breath roared in her ears. It had worked. She had saved him. His death that day was not fate.  
  
Seteth was_ alive.  
  
_Claude laughed. “_Technically_, the Alliance isn’t doing anything just yet. But things have changed.”  
  
It was then that Claude with his scheming grin stepped to the side and gestured toward Byleth. There was a collective gasp when they all finally spotted her. Alois howled and Catherine swore…  
  
And Seteth let out a small, “Can it be?”  
  
She heard her ale cup clatter to the floor, completely forgotten.  
  
“You were alive this whole time?” Seteth was awestruck, and the sight of it made Byleth’s chest flutter.   
  
Five years hadn’t touched Seteth at all. His broad shoulders, his sternly set face, his writer’s hands clasped politely in front of him… they were exactly as she remembered. In fact, the only hint Byleth could see of the passage of time was the weariness in his eyes.   
  
She was suddenly nervous, her pulse erratic.   
  
_What is happening?  
  
_Outwardly, her eyes welled up and she gave a bashful smile. “I don’t know about _alive_ the whole time, but I am here now,” she said softly.  
  
Time stopped for a few precious seconds, and just this once it had nothing to do with divine intervention. They smiled at each other, and she tried wordlessly to reassure him as best she could. _I’m here. I’m whole.  
  
_Sound came rushing back and the raucous mob around them caught up and enveloped her. She was hugged, clapped on the shoulder, questioned, and shouted at by so many of her friends, but Byleth kept her eyes on Seteth, still rooted where he stood, as long as she could.  
  
She was, indeed, just that lucky.  
  
\---  
  
Byleth's chest was near bursting and she could feel the flush of her face from the ale. It had been several hours of stories, tearful confessions, and terrible jokes. Hours full of friendship and open affection - healing, but also very overwhelming. Quietly, she slipped out of the cathedral to enjoy the cool night breeze and calm herself.   
  
She sat on the edge of a well, looking up at the Goddess Tower. So much had happened in what felt like a single day, and she was aching from the emotional whiplash.   
  
She sighed. There was so much to be done, and so many unanswered questions. But for this one night, she was going to allow herself to be content, even happy.  
  
The Deer were safe. The Knights were safe. Seteth and Flayn were safe. That was enough for now.  
  
She heard footsteps behind her.  
  
"Professor? Are you well?"  
  
Byleth smiled. She never could hide when it came to Seteth. She cast her voice over her shoulder. "Just fine. But I'm not a professor anymore, Seteth. Please, call me Byleth. Not Professor, not Teach... just Byleth."  
  
"Byleth…" She couldn't remember if he had ever said her name before, and now his half-reverent whisper of it sent a jolt through her. The air around them was charged, and Byleth kept silent - she assumed he was working up to something. For him, it had been five years of the same unanswered questions.   
  
"The very last order you gave me that day…" Seteth's voice was quiet. She didn't turn around but she could hear his steps toward her turn hesitant. "It felt final. You knew what was to unfold."  
  
A statement. But she could hear the question he wasn't asking.   
  
_How?  
  
_Byleth decided right then that she was done with secrets. She had lost too much of her life to them already - she didn't want to lose a second more with Seteth. "A gift from Sothis," she said simply as he sat down beside her.  
  
She turned and met his eyes. "I can... reverse the flow of time. A few minutes, nothing more. Just enough time to save a life."  
  
Seteth showed no surprise but Byleth knew he wouldn't. He always did like to gather facts before passing judgement. He was fair that way. "And have you? Saved a life with this power?"   
  
She gave him a sad smile. "Everyone here. I've seen them all fall at least once. It’s like their deaths never happened… yet I still remember each one." She looked up at the stars. “Hilda most often. She’d be shocked to learn how many times she’s given her life to save her friends.”  
  
Byleth looked back at him and Seteth's brows turned upward in a look of soft compassion. She didn't know how, but he understood.  
  
"And the day of the battle? Whose life were you saving?" Seteth prompted. One glance into his eyes told Byleth he already knew the answer, and that he had been waiting five long years for her to confirm it.  
  
Byleth didn't give him the chance to scold her. She gently laid her hand over his. "I had already watched you die twice that day, Seteth. I couldn't do it again. I couldn't watch someone else I care about..." Her voice gave out in a small gasp and she grasped his hand fully. "Not when I could save you."  
  
His fingers curled around hers and squeezed gently. He sighed. "I suppose I should thank you for helping me get Flayn and the others out in time. I… We... searched for you, for weeks afterward."  
  
She shrugged slightly. "I don’t know if I was even able to _be_ found. All I know is that I was sleeping for five years."  
  
Seteth's entire body went still. Byleth wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't been holding his hand. "You were asleep?"   
  
Her head cocked in confusion. "Yes? Does that mean something to you?"  
  
Quickly - oh, goddess, too quickly - Seteth shook his head. "I have heard tales of something similar but…"  
  
“Professor!” A green blur slammed into her chest and she dropped his hand to wrap her arms impulsively around her attacker. “I have not yet been able to say how good it is to see you! My brother and I were worried about you.”  
  
“Oh, Flayn, I think my rib cage is meant to stay in one shape, you’re crushing me…”  
  
As she hugged Flayn, Seteth excused himself politely and headed slowly back into the cathedral. Byleth watched over Flayn’s shoulder as he rejoined the revelry - well, reclaimed his spot as overseer of the revelry - and an anxious heat ran through her veins. She had seen it in his eyes, and heard it in his voice - he wasn’t just keeping his own secrets from her anymore.   
  
Seteth knew something about her, about what she was.  
  
And he was hiding it from her.  
  
\---  
  
For weeks, Byleth told herself that Seteth’s secrets didn’t matter. It had never bothered her before that he was keeping certain things from her, but now it ate away at her, nibble by nibble. It was _her own life _he was keeping from her.  
  
How could she help Claude create a new future for Fódlan if she didn’t even know her past? If she didn’t even know _what_ she was?  
  
At first it was easy to ignore the nagging, bitter resentment. There was a war to fight, a resistance army to raise, politicking to learn. Day in and day out Byleth was in councils or training or battles. She’d drag herself to her bed at night to pass out, before waking at dawn to do it all again. She saw Seteth every day, but didn’t have the space or energy to acknowledge him as anything other than another trusted leader and ally supporting the war effort.   
  
She was relearning her relationships with everyone. Claude was no longer her student but a true, equal partner. Flayn was a capable advisor in her own right. Alois was, in some ways, a better captain than her father - definitely a more sober one.  
  
But she wasn’t relearning her relationship with Seteth. It had become stuck. The pettiness running wild within her wouldn’t allow her to move on. It just grew and grew, feeding on her insecurities and emotional inexperience, building a raw and painful pyre.  
  
When it came to Seteth, Byleth was just a tinderbox waiting for a spark.  
  
\---  
\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon - no matter which house he's in, Sylvain is the one that encourages Byleth to swear.
> 
> Comments always welcome!


	5. Eruption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Byleth wanted, just once, was for someone to have faith in her own judgment. To let her choose.

Byleth erupted on an otherwise peaceful day, four weeks after they all found each other at the monastery.   
  
She had come upon Seteth in the star terrace’s garden. He was lost in thought, his impossible hair glowing in the setting sun's light. It was her chance, she told herself, to clear the air. Begin again. Unstick their relationship, create a new future.   
  
She could almost hear Sothis calling her naive -_ “Even a boulder has more sense!”_ \- but she ignored the warning. She couldn't allow this wound to continue festering.   
  
"Rhea really knows how to keep a secret," she announced her presence loudly, startling both Seteth and herself.  
  
Seteth's unguarded eyes snapped to hers.  
  
She chuckled lightly, nervously - this wasn’t a great start. "This garden is beautiful. I spent a year running all over this monastery and had no idea it was here."  
  
She swelled with a little bit of dirty pride as she noticed his shoulders relax and he sighed slightly in relief. If she hadn't been looking for it, she wouldn't have seen it.  
  
Her little fawns weren't the only ones who'd been learning.   
  
"Yes. It's meant for the archbishop's personal use, but I think under the circumstances..." He gazed back out at the monastery grounds and motioned for Byleth to join him on the bench.  
  
They spent a few quiet minutes watching the sun slip further behind the horizon.  
  
_Time to start cutting your own path, Byleth. Ask him what he knows._  
  
She met his eyes again and wavered. She felt it all again, the admiration and friendship that had slowly grown into something she didn’t dare name.   
  
She was a terrible liar. She had by now realized she had fallen for him - but naming it, acknowledging it, gave it power, and it already held such power over her.   
  
“May I discuss something with you, Professor?” Seteth’s words ran over each other in their rush to escape. It was so far from his usual precise and collected manner that Byleth couldn’t help but cock her head and smile with affection.  
  
_Stay focused_.  
  
But she couldn’t. “Only if you stop calling me ‘Professor’ like I asked,” she teased.  
  
"Of course, Profe... Byleth." He gave her a wide and true smile, and she almost felt her heart beat.   
  
His smile, however, quickly hardened with resolve and he cleared his throat. “Some time ago I promised to help you find the truth of who you are. But there are some… details I have kept concealed.”  
  
Byleth’s entire body tensed and she blew out a slow breath. So, no small talk, then. No slow build up to the question she couldn’t stop thinking about. She felt a small sliver of relief knowing that his secrets had been a burden on him, as well.  
  
“Five years ago, before she vanished, I asked Rhea some pointed questions. I learned that she… knows everything about you. No, that is understating it. Rhea is responsible for your very existence.”  
  
Memories floated quickly to the surface of her mind. The month before the failed defense - Seteth’s avoidance of her, Seteth and Rhea’s hushed arguments during audiences, Rhea’s newfound reverence of Byleth… “_That’s_ why everything was so strained before the battle. You confronted her and she told you the truth,” she said on an exhale.   
  
_Oh_, she had been so _blind_.  
  
He nodded once. “I could explain to you, here and now, what fragments of knowledge I was able to pry from Rhea.”  
  
Byleth stood and crossed her arms, suddenly restless, taking a few steps away from him. She stared up at the pastel sky, her back facing him.   
  
All Byleth wanted, just once, was for someone to have faith in her own judgment.   
  
To let her choose.  
  
To love her wholly, and trust her fully.  
  
_Please, Seteth..._  
  
Seteth faltered briefly, but continued. “I fear, however, that a partial understanding might do you more harm than good. Once we save Rhea, you will know the whole of it.”  
  
A hot ember of pain ignited in the pit of Byleth’s stomach, growing stronger with every word Seteth spoke. Byleth clenched her fists before catching herself and forcing them to relax. She didn’t know what was happening - she felt adrift in a brewing storm.  
  
She had to find something to anchor herself to. _Something_ to keep her from capsizing. But the only thing inside her strong enough to latch onto was resentment - wicked and unkind.  
  
She looked over her shoulder and tried to make her voice as calm as possible. "Do you remember when you said you would put your faith in me?"   
  
"Yes. I am, and will always be, your ally.” His smile was soft. Conciliatory.  
  
_Your ally. _The words were discordant in her mind. _Ally_ was not the same as friend, was it?_ Ally_ was not partner, confidante, protector. _Ally _was nothing - was that all she was to him? A means to an end?  
  
Claude would have caught the lie in her returning smile. She wrapped her arms around herself, looked away from him again, and tried to compose herself for what she assumed was a few heartbeats.  
  
"I understand now why everyone was so cautious when I first arrived," she began, still watching the shifting pastel light. She couldn't look at him. "Why Claude didn't trust me. Why you didn't trust me."  
  
"Byleth..." His voice was soft and warm and full of...  
  
She ignored him. "Before Sothis gave me her power... I was only half alive. My soul was only half my own. I felt something, to be sure, but it was all… dark. Wanting. Bored."  
  
She wore the ghost of a smile, remembering the small, ornery goddess on her throne.  
  
"After the power I felt whole, for the first time in my life. Sothis didn’t just give me her power, she returned that which was stolen from me. And I felt..." She glanced back at him, and then back out to the grounds. "Everything I felt was suddenly awash with color and life. Ignatz has it right about art imitating humanity. And I finally understood - who could trust a person who couldn't see what was missing from themselves?  
  
She heard the rustle of his robes as he began to rise towards her. "Don't get up," she said quickly.  
  
"Byleth, I must..."  
  
"You _must_ be silent. And you _must_ listen.” She spun, and her gentle glance had hardened to an angry glare. "I had nothing to spare, but I gave everything to this school. To my students. To _you_."  
  
She could feel the rage beneath her skin - it was like a beast answering her savage call and it was intoxicating. Her body was heavy with it and it felt _good_.  
  
"In return, I was treated like an empty unit. A weapon to be pointed at an enemy. A _child_ unworthy of her own past." Her voice hadn’t grown in volume, but was sharp and forceful.  
  
"That is not at all..." Seteth matched her in intensity, desperate to explain.  
  
"You will be _silent_ and will _for once_ let me make my wishes clear!" Her father may have been proud of her tears, but she couldn’t guess what he’d say about her temper.  
  
Seteth was blindsided. She could see, however, his own anger and frustration starting to rise in the wild look in his eyes.   
  
"Rhea kept secrets from me and my father about my past, who I am, _what_ I am. And now, on the cusp of a war, you dare to tell me to wait for the truth? That my past, _my being_, are Rhea's secrets alone to tell?" She took a few more steps backward away from him.   
  
Byleth couldn’t believe Seteth would still attempt to keep the truth from her, when he saw how the unknown had slowly been tearing her apart. He had seen the wreckage after her father had died with secrets unspoken. “You both trust me enough to lead the church, but not enough to know the full truth about myself?”  
  
He finally stood. "It is not as simple as that, Byleth! I cannot..." He admonished her loudly, but his eyes were pleading.  
  
"You cannot? Or will not, Seteth?" Her eyes burned with ferocity as she spat words at him.   
  
Her instinct for violence came roaring to life. She wanted him to know what this agony felt like, how her chest was ripping itself apart. It was petty and it was selfish and it was spiteful, but she wanted him to hurt as much as she did.   
  
And that's why she said, "You can fall in love with me, but you can't give me the truth?"  
  
She had thrown it at him as a weapon, a guess at the most hurtful thing she could say. But Byleth saw the truth of what she said pulse through his entire body as she felt ice down her spine. Goddess, she hadn't been alone in this. She hadn't imagined it. Finally, Byleth had named the bright thing that had been blooming within her… and it was stained by animosity and anger.  
  
He reached for her, intensity and regret in his eyes. "Byleth, you must allow me to..."  
  
_Have his eyes always been so hopelessly green?_  
  
She twisted away from him, a sharp arc missing only her glowing sword.  
  
"It's frankly worrying to me, Seteth, that you ran a school as prestigious as this one and yet do not understand the word _silent_," she seethed.   
  
He froze, shocked, his brow pinched in pain and his mouth set in a hard line. The rage was starting to turn sour in her veins but she couldn't stop herself.  
  
"Tomorrow you will meet with Mercedes to begin transitioning out of your role as my advisor. If I’m not worthy of the truth, then I’m obviously not worthy of your help. As of this moment, your will is your own." The words were bitter in her mouth as she hurled them.  
  
Twilight descended as they stood silent in the aftermath, pieces of their hearts scattered around them.  
  
Byleth turned as quickly as she could and stalked out of the garden, not daring to look back. Already, she could feel the rot in the back of her throat and in her stomach.   
  
As she got to the second floor landing, her steps evened out but remained heavy. She told herself she looked purposeful, dedicated, busy. She told herself that no one could see she was actually cruel, manipulative, _heartless_.   
  
She made her way back to her quarters, still located in the student dormitories. She smiled at every knight, soldier, and priest that passed her. For the world, she would always play the part of the enlightened one, the one blessed with the power of a goddess. She owed them that. She owed Sothis that.  
  
Until she finally entered her room, locked her door, and was just Byleth once more.   
  
And then, for the second time in her life, she cried.  
  
\---  
\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really wanted to write an angry Byleth and then this happened and... I'm sorry?
> 
> Comments of any kind welcome!


	6. Tea or Whisky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seteth was gone before daybreak.

Seteth was gone before daybreak.  
  
No one saw him leave.   
  
Flayn and Mercedes both woke to letters vaguely mentioning a sudden, sensitive mission and outlining his regular duties, while Claude woke to a letter about troop movements and an intelligence report. No letter mentioned a return.  
  
Byleth woke to nothing but grief and a blinding headache.  
  
She hid in her room as long as she could, trying far too long to come up with an excuse for her swollen eyes.   
  
After dressing and cursing herself a half-dozen times, Byleth threw open her door to find Claude leaning casually against the door jamb. His smile was bright (_fake_) but his eyes were full of worry (_real_).  
  
“I brought tea and whisky,” he chimed, one in each hand as he pulled the comforting potions from behind his back and bobbed them to the cadence of his words. “I didn’t know which you’d rather have, my friend.”  
  
"And what, praytell, am I supposed to be drinking about so early in the day?" She tried to sound bright and casual, but her voice was shrill with overthought.  
  
Byleth was blustering, and she knew he knew it. She had to get out of there, but fumbled with the lock on her door. All she could do was focus on locking the fucking _infuriating_ door and getting to her office to do… do _something_ even though it was her free day.  
  
"Teach, you really have to get better at lying if this rebellion army thing is going to go anywhere," Claude chuckled, but his demeanor softened and became real. His voice deepened as he let his concern for her show. "All I know, my friend, is that if the person I was in love with suddenly left me with no explanation and no goodbye, I'd be drinking _constantly_."  
  
Finally, _mercifully_, the door lock slid into place. She whirled. "That is not… Seteth is not… I am _not_…"  
  
Claude's smirk said everything he needed.   
  
Byleth sighed. She _would_ have to get better at not wearing her emotions so plainly. "How do you know he didn't say goodbye?"  
  
Claude surveyed her up and down with an arched brow that pointedly said, _well, all of this_. He laughed, real and rich, at the way her face flushed and her eyes narrowed.  
  
__Oh for the love of a cranky goddess...  
  
She huffed. "I'm going fishing. Bring the whisky."  
  
\---  
  
The next few war council meetings were awkward, to say the least.  
  
Seteth’s absence had everyone scrambling to fill the void. Flayn and Mercedes did their best, but even Flayn had been dismayed to see the amount of work Seteth _actually_ did.   
  
And there were growing pains to raising a rebellion. As word spread of Byleth’s return, more former Golden Deer joined the cause. After Mercedes, Dorothea and Linhardt showed up, dragging Caspar behind them. Sylvain and Felix sauntered in a few days after that. Those from the Empire caused some consternation among the Knights, but were defended and vouched for by Byleth and, especially vigorously, by Flayn.  
  
Aside from the drunken afternoon spent “fishing” and not talking about her emotions with Claude, Byleth hadn’t spoken to anyone about Seteth or his reasons for leaving.  
  
She had pushed him away, and now she had to deal with the fallout.   
  
Flayn had begun to take her afternoon tea in Byleth’s office every day. Most days they sat on opposite sides of Byleth's desk in companionable silence - Flayn filling out reports and supply orders, and Byleth going over battle tactics and trying not to think about Seteth.  
  
This proved to be difficult with his daughter sitting right in front of her.  
  
One particularly sunny afternoon Flayn came in with her tea tray and a huge smile.   
  
“The merchant happened to have a bag of four-spice tea! I know my brother will…” then she stopped short. “Oh, Professor, I apologize…”  
  
Byleth gave what she hoped was an easygoing smile. “Why are you apologizing? I’m sure Seteth will appreciate you finding his favorite tea for him.” She turned her eyes back down to her books and diagrams.  
  
“It is just that he is gone and I do not want to upset you…”  
  
“Why would I be upset? He’s on a mission. He’ll be back eventually.” She shuffled her papers around, hoping this would make the act of nonchalance more convincing.  
  
Flayn’s eyes narrowed with doubt. “Yes, but you…”  
  
“But I what, Flayn?”  
  
“But you miss him, do you not?” Her voice was so full of gentle empathy Byleth could hardly stand it.  
  
Still, she did not look up at Flayn. "Of course. He's a trusted ally."  
  
More shuffling.  
  
"But…"  
  
"But _what_, Flayn?" Byleth was exasperated and suddenly morose. "What do you want me to say? _No_, he's not just an ally. Yes, _of_ _course_ I miss him. _Every_ second. But I was the one who sent him away in a stupid fit of rage, so I don't have anyone to blame but myself."  
  
She glanced up and saw Flayn grasping her hands together in front of her chest. "Oh, Professor…"  
  
"Don't pity me, please." Byleth's voice became quiet, ashamed. "It's my fault. I was upset and angry and I… said unforgivable things."  
  
"I am certain you did not mean to…"  
  
"Flayn. I was intentionally cruel. I _wanted_ to hurt him, and I did." The least Byleth could do was accept responsibility for what she had done. She had already been vindictive and emotional - she wasn't going to become a liar, too.   
  
"I'm just so tired of these secrets. I thought that I… was something more. To him." Byleth shook her head and gave a brief, embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry, Flayn, I shouldn't be discussing this with you. He's your… family, after all. This must be weird."  
  
Flayn gave a sweet smile of understanding in return, and reached out to put her hand over her professor’s. "He _is_ my family. Which is why I can say with some certainty that you _are _more. To him, and to me.”  
  
Byleth flipped her hand over, so she could hold Flayn’s soft, delicate hand properly. “While that may have been true for him at one point, Flayn, I’m not so sure it is now. But thank you."  
  
"For a very long time, his only concern was for me and my safety. But after you disappeared…" Flayn smiled brightly, and continued. “He never once gave up hope of finding you someday. And he has changed in the last five years - he is more... open, now. Tolerant. When we were near Derdriu, he let me stay alone with Hilda for a few weeks. Well, with a handful of knights.”  
  
“I hesitate to call you a liar, but…”  
  
Flayn laughed, a beautiful, tinkling sound.   
  
“It is true! I swear it! You can ask Hilda and… oh!” She stopped abruptly, her eyes went wide, and she covered her lips with a fingertip, as if she were shushing herself.  
  
Byleth raised a single eyebrow. “Hilda and… who, Flayn?” she asked teasingly.  
  
“Oh, Professor! I... schemed… a little bit. Against my brother.” Flayn giggled with pride - with the knowledge that she had gotten away with something. She squirmed as if she were physically trying to keep the secret from escaping.   
  
Byleth smiled and couldn’t remember when she had last seen the girl looking so… happy.   
  
Finally, Flayn burst. “Hilda and… Linhardt.”  
  
Byleth grinned wide. _Of course._  
  
"You _did_ scheme! Claude would be so proud. You're a real Golden Deer, now!" She pressed her palm to her chest in mock solemnity. “Flayn, you have my word: I will not break your confidence. Seteth will not hear of this from me.”  
  
“He will _never_ hear of it,” Flayn declared seriously.  
  
Byleth laughed loudly. “That’s probably for the best.”  
  
\---  
  
Introspection was an activity Byleth was not very good at, never really having the need before. The anger and guilt still mudding her mind now made it next to impossible.   
  
So, she ended up doing the next best thing.  
  
It was midnight, six and a half days after Seteth had left. Byleth had spent most of the day with Claude, preparing troop movements to meet Judith at Ailell. Byleth then spent the evening drawing up two plans - one with Seteth, and one… without.  
  
Never before had a simple troop diagram been such an emotional torment. Unable to sleep after, she had gone for a walk in the moonlight, eventually finding her way to the cemetery.  
  
She had a bottle of whisky by the neck, and popped the cork with her thumb.  
  
"Was it… Robert? Robin? Rolf?" she whispered to the stone as she poured most of the contents of the bottle over her father's grave. She harrumphed. “‘Jeralt Rolf Eisner’ sounds like the noise a sick animal makes.”  
  
Byleth took a swig of the bottle and settled herself on the ground, chin in her hand and her elbow resting on her knee. "I deal every day with issues of battle and war. Our army is basically children, all trying to save Fódlan. ...But I’ve never felt _this_ out of my depth before.  
  
She sighed. "That very first day, you warned me about trusting them, about trusting Rhea. Would it have been so hard to just tell me why? To tell me your history with this place? To tell me _anything_?!"  
  
Byleth growled in irritation. "_Damn it_, Dad!"  
  
"You never told me how the world works. You never told me my birthday. You never told me my mother's name. You _never _opened up to me…" Her voice was softening as she continued, and her eyes welled up with dismayed tears. "...but I can't really blame you. You did the best you could with a child like me. But you taught me to just… not challenge anything. To just accept relationships where trust is never given, only taken. And look what I keep walking into."  
  
She exhaled slowly and then chuckled lightly.  
  
"Flayn told me a secret the other day. Not because she needed to, or there was some sort of disaster we needed to avert… she just wanted to share with me. And I realized that’s what I want. I want to __share myself with someone, and for them to do so in return."  
  
She sniffled and realized her tears had started to slip down her cheeks. She swiped at her face with a sleeve and took another drink.  
  
"I can't do this anymore. I can't accept being kept in the dark by the people I care about. I can't let them continue to drag me along. Look what happened - I held all my frustrations and anger in until I shattered and hurt the man I…"  
  
Byleth looked up at the stars. "You know, he was the last thought I had when I fell. That’s… significant, isn’t it?"  
  
She fell silent. How could she even begin to forgive Seteth and apologize for all she had done?   
  
Could she have a future that included Seteth?  
  
"...Goddess, what a fucking mess I've made.”  
  
There were only drops left, but she lifted the whisky to her lips and drank the rest of it anyway. Replacing the cork, she stood, and set the bottle gently against the headstone.  
  
“Dad, I miss you. You were a good man... but kind of a terrible father."  
  
\---  
\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter after this!
> 
> Comments always welcome.


	7. Whatever You Choose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I thought perhaps this time we could spar with weapons instead of words."

* * *

_ Professor,   
_ _Our upcoming mission has me ill at ease, and   
_ _I would greatly appreciate if you could train   
_ _with me tomorrow morning just after dawn.  
_ _ I apologize for the inconvenience.   
_ _Cordially,  
_ _Flayn_

* * *

  
The note - in Flayn's beautiful, flourished handwriting - had been simply irksome the night Byleth found it slid beneath her door. It became downright annoying the next morning, crumpled in her hand as she made her way to the training field, eyes bleary and head foggy.  
  
Flayn knew Byleth hadn't been sleeping well in the days since Seteth's departure, so for her to ask for training at dawn meant something serious. Byleth would, of course, do what she could to reassure Flayn, but it meant forgoing precious sleep.  
  
As she opened the gates to the training yard, however, she saw something out of the corner of her eye. A flash of green, a flutter of gold. Puzzled, she continued to walk into the yard - and heard the door behind her being slammed shut and locked from the outside.  
  
_Oh for fuck's sake...  
  
_She turned around, bewildered, and looked out across the ring.  
  
There was Seteth, facing away from her near the weapons rack.  
  
He was wearing only loose shirtsleeves, rolled up his forearms and open at the collar, with simple breeches and training boots. Byleth had never seen him out of his formal robes and the sight of him so casual was…  
  
_Unfair_.  
  
She stopped, trying to catch her breath. Everything boiled together in her stomach - love, anger, guilt, shame. And underneath it all, she was _happy_ to see him. An aching piece of tension inside her loosened in sweet relief.  
  
_How do I even begin to say I'm sorry?  
  
_Seteth heard her turmoil. He turned, slowly, and gave her a contrite half-smile. “I apologize for the deception, Byleth. I…” He cleared his throat and his brow creased with regret. “I was unsure if you would want to continue our discussion from the garden.”  
  
His eyes looked as weary as she felt. Wherever he had been for the last nine days, he had been getting about as much rest as she had. Had he been traveling all night?  
  
“We need to get better at small talk, you and I," she sighed. "Just straight into it. Uh, yes, we can… _continue_ the discussion if you'd like." She huffed and looked back at the door. "I'm pretty sure Flayn and Claude locked me in here, anyway."  
  
Seteth had the good sense to look embarrassed. "Ah. Yes. Well. I asked for their assistance in ensuring we are not disturbed while we…"  
  
"Kill each other?"  
  
"...clear the air. I thought perhaps this time we could spar with weapons instead of words." He threw a wooden training sword her way and kept an axe for himself. “Sparing with you helped me with my own anger once.”  
  
Byleth shifted uncomfortably and sighed. “Seteth, I’m angry at _you_. And myself. And I don’t know how to forgive either of us.”  
  
Seteth made his way to the middle of the ring and readied his stance. “Forgiveness is like anything else - you practice. You have never shied away from training before.”  
  
She stared at him, training sword dangling loose in her hand. Her hurt and her anger were still there, just under the surface. “You… left me.” Then, realizing something else, she cocked her head. “And Flayn. You left _Flayn_.”  
  
“If Flayn is not safe here with you, she is not safe anywhere.”  
  
Byleth charged him then, sword held high. She ran savagely, sounds of frustration coming from her. Seteth brought up his axe, moving to parry a powerful attack…  
  
...that never came. At the last second Byleth’s eyes focused in a wolfish glare. She dropped her sword without swinging, dodged his parry low to the left and swung her leg behind his, knocking him flat on the ground.  
  
“Glad to know that trusting me with your daughter’s life is below trusting me with my own past,” she scoffed as she looked down on him.  
  
Seteth let out a low wheeze as he raised up on his elbows. “I should have foreseen that.”  
  
“Yes, you should have.” She sighed and held her hand out to him, helping him stand. “I can never best you with raw strength, but I am much quicker. And less honorable.”  
  
As he stood to his full height, he quickly dusted himself off. He always had been so fastidious. Soft, warm thoughts started invading her mind - of this private Seteth, the one behind closed doors, out of his stiff robes and divested of his aloof demeanor, the one for her eyes only.  
  
She closed her eyes against them and turned on her heel, taking several steps away. She exhaled - _stay focused_ \- and turned, sliding her feet into position and holding up her sword once more.  
  
“In the garden, when I was…” she waved her hand in lieu of finishing the sentence. _Screaming at you_. “You kept asking for a chance to explain. So. Explain.”  
  
Step by step, they began to slowly move together, working through basic warm-up drills.   
  
“I do not know where to begin.”  
  
“Literally anywhere, Seteth," she said, miffed. "Maybe just start with why you left.”  
  
One, two, dodge left. One, two, parry right.  
  
“This may shock you, Byleth, but I am just as out of practice with this sort of thing as you are. I thought giving each other space would be prudent.”  
  
“For nine days?” Byleth felt a faint flush on her cheeks when she realized she was admitting to counting the days he’d been gone.  
  
Seteth pulled back and lowered his axe. “I… traveled to Rhodos. And Zanado. Both were cherished places to me once, and were a reminder that I have not always isolated myself.” He looked up and met her eyes. “That the happiness I once felt there could be found again if only I would allow it.”  
  
_Zanado?  
  
_They stood in silence. Byleth didn’t quite know what to say. It was an honest and sincere profession, but not all that she needed. She didn’t quite know how to urge him to continue without sounding ungrateful.  
  
So she fell back to old, easy habits.  
  
Byleth charged, and Seteth once again lifted his axe. He was ready, however, and kept his eyes on her feet and shoulders for a sudden change in direction. She had no tricks this time, and their weapons met in a furious chop instead of the sharp metallic clash she was used to.  
  
Their blades stalemated, but after a few moments Seteth was able to overpower her. Using the momentum of his shove, Byleth leapt backward to land gracefully on her toes and slide to a stop.  
  
The physical effort helped loosen his tongue. “The truth will change everything for you, Byleth. It will change everything between us and I… in this, I have been selfish. I wished only for more time.”  
  
“More time?”  
  
“I thought I had more time to coax the full truth from Rhea. Then you disappeared and all that remained was regret. When you returned, I… I wanted simply to be near you again. I did not want it to change, not yet. I am sorry for trying to conceal the truth. I never intended to hurt you, but I see now there’s no way it could have done any differently.” His voice was calm and apologetic, and he offered no excuses. Byleth felt her ire cooling even more as she began to, finally, understand.  
  
“My father started this whole tradition of keeping me in the dark. You and Claude are just keeping it going, I guess,” she grumbled, no longer able to sharpen her words. His eyes eased and he smiled at her sadly.  
  
“I suspect Claude and I are both terrified of the same thing - that you would not choose us, if the full truth were known. Loss and prejudice has been the way of both of our lives. It is hard to overcome such an ingrained paranoia.”  
  
“That’s absurd. I _already have_ chosen both of you. I _choose_ to lead the Golden Deer. And you... I’ve already...” she looked up at him and let the words die on her tongue. She was still so afraid of saying it plainly.  
  
He seemed to understand her reluctance and started their dance again, this time hefting his blade and circling around her. “Before you were granted her power, were you ever able to speak with Sothis?”  
  
Byleth stumbled through the first few steps of their waltz, flustered by the sudden change in subject. “I… yes. She awoke just before I arrived at the monastery, and I could see and talk to her the whole time.”  
  
Seteth rushed her - she parried, then countered. He continued his questions. “I suspected as much. Tell me, did she ever reveal to you what she was?”   
  
Thud, slide, chop.  
  
“She… couldn’t remember.” Byleth’s breath was labored as they stepped and attacked in time. “Barely remembered her own name. She said she was The Beginning.”  
  
"She never explained anything about her past?" His voice was curious, but cautious.  
  
"No. She eventually remembered bits and pieces - that she once lived at Zanado, a lullaby she wrote - but nothing specific."  
  
Seteth dropped his axe and backed away from the spar, his eyes shut. Byleth could see his decisions flitting across his features. He raked his hand through his hair and opened his eyes to fix her with his gaze.  
  
"Seteth?" she prompted.  
  
"I was gone for an entire day before I realized I was not worried about my daughter. I knew you would protect her as fiercely as myself. It dawned on me then - you have not been a simple ally of mine for some time. I already trust you with what is most precious to me, so there is no question as to trusting you with everything else."  
  
She dropped her sword with a dull _thwack_ and her feet started carrying her forward.  
  
"Byleth. Dear one. I regret ever causing you pain. I am sorry for..."  
  
Byleth captured the rest of his words with her lips. Seteth’s breath stuttered and his body went rigid in surprise. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, she raised herself on her toes to press her lips harder against his.  
  
Then, Seteth's entire body groaned in relief as one hand wrapped around her waist and the other tangled itself in her hair to pull her closer and deepen the kiss.   
  
If the feeling of his eyes made her burn, then the feeling of his lips and his hands and his body pressed against her set her aflame. The kiss grew in desperation as Byleth realized the heat building within her this time was not fury but hunger, hot and fierce, and that Seteth -_ her Seteth_ \- was responding in kind. She could feel him, hear him, coming undone at her touch, everything that he had held back now so plainly obvious.  
  
Surrounded by his warmth, she could feel his wild, thumping heartbeat in her chest as if, finally, she had one of her own.  
  
Breathless, he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, the metal of his headpiece cool against the flush of her face.   
  
“Beautiful Byleth…” he breathed her name like a benediction and oh, _oh,_ did she want to hear it again, darker and heavier and when he was losing control and at her mercy.  
  
He reached up with one hand to gently brush her hair behind her ear, while the other cupped her cheek. Byleth drew in a faltering breath at the tenderness of the gesture.   
  
"You deserve the truth and more, Byleth," he murmured, his voice low. "I do not have all the answers you seek, but I will give you everything I know about your past… and mine."  
  
His voice was filled with sadness - no, _sorrow_ \- and Byleth didn't know why.   
  
As if he were stealing it, Seteth kissed her gently, quickly, one last time. He stayed a hairsbreadth above her, and she could feel his words whisper on her lips. "Even if the truth changes everything for you, you must know that I love you, deeply. I will _always_ love you, Byleth, whatever you choose."  
  
She was thunderstruck. It was one thing to guess, to use it as a petty weapon, and another entirely to _hear_ it. Not even her father had ever said he _loved_ her. "Seteth, I…"  
  
He sighed with regret and kissed her temple. "Please, before you say anything, permit me to tell you what I know. I do not think I could bear it if…”   
  
Byleth grasped at the front of his shirt. “Seteth, _what_ are you so afraid of?”  
  
With a fingertip he sketched a line from her ear down her neck that had Byleth fighting shivers. “I already confessed - I do not wish to lose you.”  
  
Her face screwed up in disbelief. “Why would you lose me? Seteth, I love…”  
  
Rushing to cut her off, he said, “I believe you are no longer human, Byleth.”  
  
Byleth forgot all words as her eyes widened and her hands dropped to her sides. Her face went slack and she could only whisper. “Sothis…”  
  
“Sothis was a manakete, Byleth. The power and blood that runs through your veins…” He carded his fingers through her hair. “...that makes your hair and your eyes this ethereal color - is that of a divine dragon.”  
  
_Oh, sweet, surly Sothis.  
  
_Had her father known? Is that why he ran from Rhea, and from the Knights of Seiros? What it the cause of her mother’s death? Was she some sort of descendant?  
  
They floated to her mind one after the other, but all Byleth could force out was a meek “...how?”  
  
“I only know that it was Rhea’s doing. Beyond that, only she can answer. I can... give you a possible motive, however…”   
  
For a moment, he neither moved nor spoke. His eyes roamed her face, as if he were mapping it.   
  
Slowly, so slowly, with a rueful look, he pushed his hair behind his ear to reveal a pointed tip. A definitely _not human_ pointed ear that she instantly recognized.   
  
Seteth answered the question just barely forming in her mind. “Sothis... was my creator. _Our_ creator, Rhea’s and mine.”  
  
Byleth was positive at that moment that she had never looked so dumbfounded in her life. She took a few sluggish steps away from Seteth to sit on the low wall surrounding the training ring.  
  
Puzzle pieces from her time at the monastery began to fall into place. Rhea’s strange behavior around her. Flayn’s inconsistent stories. The Immaculate One. Rhea’s lullaby.   
  
She still had so many questions. Some, she knew Seteth would satisfy. Most would be left unanswered until Rhea was found.  
  
But... she had at least one definitive answer.  
  
Byleth stood and placed her hand in Seteth’s. Stretching on her toes, she kissed him hard, quickly, decisively.  
  
Then, deliberately, she placed her other hand on Seteth’s chest. “Don’t interrupt me this time,” she chided him.  
  
Seteth smiled and placed his hand over hers. His heartbeat was fast, but steady. Strong. Resolute. It was his, and it was also hers.  
  
“Seteth. I love you, with my whole being, human or not. I can’t imagine doing any of this without you. Please… please don’t leave me like that again.”  
  
He kissed her. It was gentle and slow this time, a kiss born not out of desire, but as an answer.  
  
_Never.  
  
_Byleth pulled away as tears threatened to fall. She reached up and traced from his chin up to his ear, and out to its point. His eyes closed and she felt a shudder run through him.  
  
“Will you… tell me your story?”  
  
\---  
  
They left the training yard - earning an elated “oh!” from Flayn and a wink from Claude - and settled in to his office, with nothing but time and their favorite tea.  
  
And so it was that Byleth learned the true story of Seiros and the Four Saints. Of Cichol and Cethleann. Of Seteth and his centuries in Fódlan.  
  
It went as so many of their other conversations in his office had gone - easy and free, with small moments of learning and feeling and connection.   
  
Only now, without the need to dance around her feelings or her enjoyment of being near him, Byleth felt more present, more at ease, than she ever had before. Her fingers would find his. He would run lazy caresses along her wrists. Their legs would weave together as they turned to face each other on the sofa.  
  
Eventually caresses gave way to full-on exploration and talking gave way to touching and to tasting and to the insistent desire building within them.   
  
Somewhere between their gasps and their cries and their clothing being shed, Byleth idly wondered how Seteth would ever be able to get anything done in this office again.  
  
\---  
  
Byleth awoke the next morning tangled in sheets and Seteth’s arms and the warmth of their bodies. She glanced over to find him smiling down at her, his eyes sleepy but bright.  
  
A thought popped up in her mind, and she startled even herself with her loud and unrestrained laughter.  
  
Bemused, he kissed the tip of her nose. “Not exactly the reaction one desires the morning after…”  
  
She turned her whole body toward him, her laughter quieting into an earnest giggle. “I just remembered you have a painting of a dragon in your office.”  
  
Seteth gave her a smug smile, and Byleth decided right then and there that it was one of her favorite things about him.  
  
\---  
  
The end of the war came once… twice… three times.   
  
When Hubert’s letter had arrived, and revealed the presence of Those Who Slither in the Dark, it took everything in Byleth to not look immediately for Seteth, to ensure his safety.  
  
_The children of the goddess...  
  
_If only Edelgard had trusted her, told her about their true enemy… things may have been completely different. Lives, including Edelgard’s own, could have been saved.  
  
But now it was too late, even for the Divine Pulse.  
  
They had their victory. It was hardfought, and full of regret.  
  
And it came at too high a cost.  
  
\---  
  
The coronation of the beloved Byleth, First Queen of Fódlan, was a beautiful and elegant affair, immortalized in art and song for generations.   
  
The private feast afterward, however, was a boisterous and drunken bacchanal that was spoken of in giddy whispers by the Golden Deer for decades. It was a new beginning for not only Fódlan, but her heroes, as well.   
  
Multiple wedding proposals were accepted and declined that night. Claude was leaving at first light to take up his rightful place as Crown Prince of Almyra. Mercedes, as the new Archbishop, had rebuilding efforts to oversee. Everyone, it seemed, would be scattering after this last night together - to take up their noble titles or return to their homes to begin the business of being citizens and not soldiers.   
  
Many whispered congratulations were given to Byleth and Seteth. Though not yet publicly announced, they had married in a private ceremony days earlier. Just the two of them and Flayn in the star terrace - the place where their radical new honesty had begun.  
  
Byleth looked out over the celebration, affection swelling in her chest. Her brave students, now her victorious friends. They had all earned this rest.  
  
Tomorrow, the work would truly commence. She would help bring a better era to Fódlan, with lasting peace and new freedom, and pass it on to a new dawn of humanity.  
  
After that… she did not know. But she knew she was done living in the dark and done accepting the shadows. This life - her new inhuman life - would be lived with intention and choice. For the greater good.  
  
And Byleth knew that Seteth - her husband, her lover, her friend - would be there, by her side, for whatever centuries they had.   
  
\---  
\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like to drag things out longer than a month, and I just barely made it with this last chapter. I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Comments are always welcome.
> 
> Until next time. xoxo.


End file.
